Ark
by outerelf
Summary: The Arks crew was supposed to fall apart.


It wasn't the silence that got to him, nor was it the half-askance looks sent to him. The languid Decepticon warrior leaned back in his seat as he idly tapped upon the metal, not bothering to look up, down, or around at the others.

He knew why they were here, just like he was pretty certain he knew why _he_ was here. Either way the mech looked at it, he was probably going have to be staring at their faceplates for a long, long time now…

"Enough Soundwave. I have calculated the probabilities several times, and I have come to the conclusion that this is what's for the best."

"Probabilities: uncertain. Mechs: not to be trusted."

"They are the best at what they do, and they are certainly here for a reason. Enough Soundwave, we must try it."

"Confirmation reached. Very well."

The mech perked up as the voices drifted down the hallway, before the doors slid open. His red optics widened slightly as he realized whom the voices belonged to.

A single light-bulb face gave the impression of sweeping the crowded mechs as he stood in the doorway. Beside him stood his brother, a large blue cassette player right behind him. The red visor obscured optics, bringing a sense of being apart from the world. "Now, I'm certain you all know why you are all here. Many of you have little to no background, and are not yet fully registered as Decepticons. We plan on using this to our advantage by sending you all in as spies. I suggest you memorize each other's faces, because you lot will be assigned as a single unit. You'll all have to know each other, and act as if you're the last survivors of the city of Gyglax. You five were forced to hike to the nearest city, and refuse to be separated, and bitterly hate the Decepticons. After that, it's up to you to work your way up into the ranks. Once you have reached either a commanding position or an SIC position, you are to contact me through the data given."

The debrief continued for awhile in this vein, before names and backgrounds were handed out.

The newly dubbed Jazz held his datapad up, before glancing around at his 'team' and grimaced. They were all poor actors, that he could tell already. He was going have to ditch them.

"Jazz." For a moment the name didn't register, before his head came up slowly.

"Yeah, you wanted me?"

"Query: Why avoid teammates."

"Mmm? That? No worries Soundwave. I'll get to know them."

If it were possible, Jazz could've sworn that Soundwave was staring at him silently through the visor. But it was hard to tell what exactly the mech was thinking without the ability to see his optics.

Jazz was fascinated- he had never known how few emotions one could convey without the use of the optics. Little twitches, like that of the hands and rest of the body were instead used- and Soundwave had to be the stillest mech he had ever seen.

Soundwave shook his head. "Wong. Do not lie."

Jazz stiffened, optics narrowing up at the Decepticon. As if in answer to his silent wondering, Soundwave responded. "Telepathic. Thoughts understood."

Confused thoughts poured into his CPU as he stared up at the red visor, really wishing he had something to mimic it-

Soundwave subspaced a blank visor, and placed it before him. "Goodbye."

Before the smaller mech had a chance to jump the larger cassette player, Soundwave had already moved out the door, leaving behind nothing more then the visor. Jazz picked it up, a finger sliding down the smooth glass. The visor was white, opaque on one side, clear on the other. Small indents on the ends showed where the visor would hook up with internal components.

He idly spun it on a finger like he would a ball, weighing the gifts implications in his CPU. Nobody ever gave gifts without expecting something in return, especially not the Decepticons.

Soundwave would want something in return, and Jazz didn't have a single idea on what it could be. It could be anywhere from being his personal servant after the war for a few vorns or to being an interfacing partner.

A smirk crawled up onto Jazz face as he hooked on the visor. He'd worry about that when he got to it. As for now, he was simply going to have fun screwing with the Autobots CPU.

---------

Whatever reaction Jazz had been expecting when his 'weary' team had staggered into the base, this wasn't one of them. His personal bet would've been from outright suspicion to sever reservations. Instead his team had been greeted warmly, given the best of medical treatment possible, and fed.

After that, the cheerfully happy green mech had decided to take them on a tour around base. "Over there is the scientists labs- I would suggest avoiding them unless you have business there."

An explosion rocked the building, as a fire truck sprang out of nowhere. "Any flames?" He sang out, grinning.

"No Inferno, no flames. Ouch… Where's First Aid? I think poor Percy accidentally poked his optic out."

"My physical sensor net in that general location shows no sign of fluctuating or excruciating readings. I hypothesize-"

Jazz optics beneath the visor shuttered slightly as he stared at the scientists building for a few moments longer, CPU planning. From the sound of it, the scientists easily blew things up. That might be a good idea to remember later in life when he had to blow someone up. Then he could simply blame it all on the scientists.

The fire truck pouted, before sighing heavily. "Hound, what do ya have here?"

The fire truck practically bounded over, smiles and sunshine everywhere. Jazz rose up to met the smile. "Name's Jazz. Nice to meet ya."

"Nice to meet ya as well…FIRE!"

Jazz nearly jumped at Infernos happy scream, and the way the optics flared up as he spotted the first licks of flame behind the visored mech. Before any of the Decepticon spies knew it, Inferno was at the building, cackling to himself as he began cheering the flames on.

"Hound, what the slag was that?" One of the others demanded.

"Oh, ignore Inferno. He's a good mech at his spark, but he's borderline… well… he's a pyromaniac, and a bit of a melodramatic. He likes saving others, and he likes the attention. There's been talk of him setting his own fires just so that way he could put them out again."

Jazz made another mental note in his CPU about this mech. A fire truck that liked to set his own fires- it would be good to blame all fires on him. _Heh, if I keep this up, I might just find some way to get an entire base of these guys, and then I can do whatever I want without being suspected of anything._

Hound unexpectedly stiffened, before hurriedly motioning them aside. "Quickly, this way. It looks like Prowl has spotted us, either that or he's ready to give one of his long speeches again."

Jazz head tilted to the side as he attempted to watch the other walk by.

A mech with two incredibly large door-wings passed by. His face could've been chiseled of solid metal, and set on the face for all it twitched. Every single one of the Datsuns movements was made for economy, not for the sake of moving, and Jazz had the sudden vision of the mech sitting in the middle of the room looking like a craved statue that no one else actually noticed.

"Whew, we missed him. Good, now come along with me and I'll show you around everywhere else."

As Hound walked, talked, and pointed out key points in the defense, Jazz kept up a steady stream of notes within his CPU.

One never knew when these names or the faces behind them could be important after all.

"Oh, and by the way, what do you all plan on doing for jobs? Are you three being foot-soldiers, any specialized work you do?"

Jazz eagerly leapt on this chance. "I was planning on going into Special Ops."

Hounds head tilted to one side. "Oh really? Maybe I should introduce you to Mirage. He's Special Ops."

"That would be cool!" Jazz laughed softly. How very, very easy it was to bend the Autobots to his way of thinking.

---------------

Jazz glanced at Prowl, before looking up to Optimus Prime virtuously, not able to believe his luck. Several vorns of coming back with critical information and training some of the best Special Ops ever seen, and he was here.

Here- the beginning structure of something called The Ark. It was, according to Prime, a ship being built to travel to other stars in the ever expanding quest for energon.

Jazz inched closer to Prowl, his trademark smile big on his face. It was a good thing he had become interested in the mech since the beginning- of course being the unofficial 'Third-in-Command' wasn't exactly what he had thought he could ever rise too.

"I called you both here in hopes that you two might be able to help me in discerning who might be best for the Ark."

Jazz perked up. This would be a crucial moment, could he or could he not maneuver other Decepticons into these ranks? "Our Security Director for this deal apologizes that he won't be with us, but apparently he's still caught up on making certain that no Decepticons find out. He did leave notes on several of the mechs, as well as a couple personal files he dug up elsewhere."

Prowl nodded, and Jazz kept from hissing in disappointment. Out of all positions, Security Director had to of been filled. "Who is the Security Director?" He asked casually.

"I don't believe you've heard of him before. His Designation is Red Alert."

Jazz optics widened beneath the visor, as he clamped down on the slight panic welling up within him.

On his recent talks to the Decepticon base, Soundwave had mentioned that there was a brand new Security Director that had an unusually high resistance to his telepathy and seemed to be impossible to catch. "Red Alert? I haven't heard of him before. What's his story?"

"I don't know. He's not he most sociable of mechs, and keeps a tight lid on all personal files. The only information I've ever gotten from him is all about possible Decepticons and how to update security."

"Huh." Jazz made a note to find out more about the weaknesses of the new security director while maintaining his fabricated identity.

"Anyways, I though we might first start with the engineers."

Jazz CPU instantly brought to front the over-eager inventor that had attempted to explode himself multiple times. What was his name… It had started with a 'W'… Wheelie? No. Wheel-something... Wheelcrack? Wheelexplode? Wheelimpossible? Wheeljerk- no, Wheeljack!

"I think I might know just the mech. Is a mech named Wheeljack among them?" Jazz grinned as he began to bear down the knowledge that he had.

-----------

Jazz foot tapped impatiently as he stared down the list of those assembled to be within the Arks crew.

Prowl, Red Alert, Ratchet, Ironhide, Inferno, Wheeljack, Perceptor, Bluestreak, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Hoist, Mirage, Bumblebee, First Aid, Blades, Hound, Mirage, Smokescreen, Tracks, Seaspray, Cliffjumper and a host of others.

Each of them was nicely insane in their own way. Jazz knew that- He had worked with them before, on several different missions. He had no doubt that under the combined neuroses and different glitches of the personalities the Ark would fall apart before it had gotten very far.

The screen before him flickered to life, as Jazz leaned forward to grin at the red-visor mech in the screen. "Guess what I found out Wave!"

Silence from the other end. Jazz didn't let this discourage him, as he continued nearly singing out the words, "Prime is building a space-ship and is going to launch into space to go after energon. I've managed to sabotage his crew by putting together a bunch of idiots, and glitches, but he might just keep on going even after his crew kills each other."

"Acknowledged. Orders: Stay put. Watch. Contact before leaving. I will inform Lord Megatron."

The monotone syllabic response made Jazz grin in delight. "Righto- this ship will be doomed before it ever got off the ground."

* * *

a/n: Request fic! Please read and review. (And yes, it is very ironic that the 'doomed ship' became _the_ most famous ship in the history of Transformers.) *Note: I will not have internet for the next two weeks, so don't expect me to comment, reply, or in any way say I exist.


End file.
